Eternally Alone
by I'm Not Your Enemy
Summary: The first thing Wally notices is how empty he is. He's not hungry or sad—just hollow. There's a distinct lack of feeling and he's not quite aware of himself. It takes him a moment to realise why there's a tear sliding down his cheek.


The first thing Wally notices is how empty he is. He's not hungry or sad—just hollow. There's a distinct lack of feeling and he's not quite aware of himself. He can just about see his hand if he holds it close to his face; it's mostly transparent but seems to be becoming more opaque by the second. Soon enough, he can see the bright colours of his uniform easing back into life. It takes him a moment to realise why there's a tear sliding down his cheek.

Just as there had been a void within him before, he's suddenly overwhelmed by a tidal wave of emotions—_overwhelmed, whelmed, what's the difference anymore? _He remembers gradually. At first, it's scenes and places. He remembers the mess that had been his childhood room, the laboratory where he'd gained his powers, the kitchen the Team would gather in whenever M'gann decided to make cookies.

M'gann.

The Team.

He remembers names and faces now. He remembers his parents and their cheeks flushed with pride upon his acceptance into college; his uncle and the grin they would share throughout training; Dick and his ceaseless cackling whenever they had played video games; Kaldur and his serenity throughout all situations; Conner and his brash instincts impulsive enough to rival Wally's; Artemis and—

Artemis.

Wally falls to the ground—_there's a ground here?_—with a shaking sob, his shoulders hunched and his hands fisted in his hair. The tears are burning now. At least he can feel them, but he doesn't want to feel anymore. He can't stand to be alone with himself knowing that he'd left everyone behind; that he'd never get to go back to Paris with Artemis, or finish that essay he started for his physics class, or see the latest blockbuster with Dick, or even hug his mother again. The tears come quickly and he finds himself struggling to breathe throughout the crying. Had he not been alone, he would've been ashamed and furiously denied his actions. But he is alone. He could cry to his heart's content.

When he raises his head, his vision is blurred but it doesn't matter. There's not much to see here. There's just a vast expanse of white and it's almost blinding. Wally stands but finds it hard to differentiate between the ground and everything else. It looks like he's standing in mid-air. He takes a tentative step forwards but his foot just stops on the ground ahead of him. He walks.

He walks until his legs begin to tire and his eyes can no longer handle the sheer brightness of his surroundings. He walks until he feels numb and until he can recall his final moments vividly. At least he'd gone with a reason. Hell, he'd practically saved the world. If that didn't get him a first class ticket to heaven then he didn't know what did.

The place does not change; it remains consistent with each step. It's simply a never-ending stretch with nothing around; no people, no places, no hope. He'd hoped that he'd been walking towards the light—or whatever other cliché there is—but he's so far been unsuccessful. He's only managed to exhaust himself. He's not sure how long he's been here. It feels like forever.

This time when he sits on the ground, it's with more grace and calmness. There's a desperate ache in his chest, only deepened with the infinite wondering of whether anyone back home feels like this for him. He hopes so. He hopes people care about him.

He rises again with something akin to determination, and runs. He'd died running. The thought won't stop circling in his mind.

He pushes himself and finds that he's faster than he ever was in life. Maybe. It's hard to judge with the lack of scenery.

He runs straight ahead, his eyes focused on the spot directly in front of him. He will find something here. He refuses to spend eternity in isolation.

And then there's a shape. It's distant but stands out clearly against the whiteness engulfing it. It's small and dark, with just a hint of colour. As Wally nears—he pushes himself faster, the promise of ending his seclusion dangling ahead of him—he finds that the shape is human. It's curled on the ground, legs brought up to its chest with pale arms circled around them.

Wally skids to a halt. His soles don't even burn on the ground.

He stares at the kid for a while. He hasn't seen Jason in years—with good reason. He'd not known the second Robin very well but he'd been there when Dick told him the news and had been the shoulder to cry on as it really sunk in. He remembers feeling sad for the life that ended so early and concern for the effects on his predecessor.

Jason grins up at him.

Wally grins in return. He'd almost forgotten what it feels like to smile.

"It's been a while, West."

Wally takes a seat beside him, folding his legs. "I would say 'nice to see you too' but I don't know if that's appropriate."

"We're dead," Jason says bluntly. He's still in his Robin uniform, though in lays in tatters across his skin. Thankfully his wounds are no more. Wally had heard about the circumstances of his death; it's not a fate he would wish on anyone.

"I think I kinda got that." Wally lets out a deep breath and places his hands behind him, leaning back on them. "This is weird."

"Yeah." There's a gap that lasts for longer than Wally would've liked, but neither of them make any move to fill it. "How's Dick?"

"Fine, I think. He was pretty distraught over you for a while but he healed." He then winces at a well-aimed punch to his side. "What was that for?"

"For leaving him."

"I left everyone."

"I know." His masked eyes move to look away from Wally. "Well done, by the way. On saving the world. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Thanks," Wally says, although he's not entirely sure it was much of a compliment. "Have you been alone this whole time?"

Jason nods.

"I guess I'll have to keep you company until someone else comes along," he jokes, although his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

There's a quiet 'thank you' and Wally knows that Jason may have no physical wounds blemishing his skin, but his hurt runs more than skin deep. No one wants to spend forever alone.

"I'm usually picky about my company but I suppose I'll just have to take what I can get," Jason sneers, trying to recover from his moment of emotional vulnerability.

Wally lets him pretend. He's glad for the company too.


End file.
